I should have thought more of this,
given it much closer attention,
stayed up at night, as I did
with money matters,
and a thousand other concerns.
I should have tried harder
not to be here, in this condition,
missing some gold teeth,
feeling in the cool of the casket
my flesh peel away,
the rest of my teeth loosen,
while my nails and hair
continue growing, unaware,
it seems, of the general strike,
the cessation of work.
My backbone sings, as do my feet (snug
in their shoes), glad to be relieved −
relaxed now in our stone boat.
At last, the finest, fullest, roundest silence.
Were I better prepared,
brought some books, and notes,
I might do some real thinking here.